Winter Green.
When we decided to replan and redecorate the room I use as a studio we knew exactly the colour we wanted for the chimney breast. The green of our local harbours in the winter.
Colour chart investigating led us to Hesper.
The name intrigued me and a little googling took me not to the sea but to a Mexican Palm Tree.
Now I am wondering if I could grow a Blue Hesper Palm in the yard. More googling, perhaps not.
But for now we have a Hesper chimney breast.
Colours are fascinating.
Monday fakery, this picture did not make it into the autumn leaf blog yesterday. My Google Pixel phone generated it from one of my photos in the ‘stylised’ setting in picture editing. Stylised uses my favourite settings and gives me a picture I might create for myself. Mostly the image is an epic fail, in my opinion, but sometimes the result is gloriously accurate, as it has been for this picture.
If I suffered from ‘Monday Morning Malaise’ this is a picture that could encourage me to ‘ get a wiggle on’.
My long term career was a seven day a week job so Mondays were not quite as significant to me, but commuting into work in London using public transport it was easy to feel that ‘Monday’ feeling emanating, if not dripping from my fellow commuters. And from the 9-5ers who arrived at 9 on a Monday and worked alongside those of us who worked shifts and On-Call rotas. I was also spared the ‘Sunday Night Dread’. Although the ‘on-call’ dread was very real any day of the week.
Now, I live a self-directed week; my Monday mornings are a little more significant than they have ever been. Monday morning is like unpacking an Amazon parcel. I don’t quite remember what is planned this week. (I can never remember what I ordered) My first job is to check my diary and I am good to go. This picture rather joyfully sums up the optimism of most of my Mondays. I realise I am lucky.
We did autumnal things yesterday in less-than-ideal autumnal settings. Hugo is restricted to 10 to 15 minute walks for the next 4 weeks, also the light levels and dampness underfoot meant that the colours and crunch of fallen autumn leaves were missing from our park walk. My photographs were disappointing. I have about ten years of autumn photographs stored on my phone so I picked a couple of favourites to brighten this blog. Nobody loves a dull brown leaf.Our walks yesterday were at the pace of a poorly dog and a two year old. We had time to observe the leaf drop at a granular level. We were also hunting for acorns to be stored in a small person’s pocket. The squirrels in this particular park have been very efficient so our small person was disappointed. She turned her attention to Hugo who was attempting his first post surgery poo. I’m sure he would have preferred less scrutiny, but she was only trying to be helpful, and thoughtfully offered him a demo in case he had forgotten his technique.
You can see what I mean about the dullness of yesterday’s leaf fall. The demo must have helped, Hugo was able to be a successful eliminator moments later.
Luckily to counter the brownness of Devonport Park, I can share a picture of beach huts in November near Swanage in Dorset. Autumn colors in a different format
Doing our favourite walks at an even slower pace than normal and for much shorter times for the next 4 weeks is going to be a challenge for us all. My 12 year archive of random photographs may be plundered more often, the blogs may get even more repetitive. Let’s see what happens.
The sun sets on the first of November an infinitely better day than 31st October. As an update, Hugo is recovering well from his trauma. Far braver than us, he boldly walked the streets of our local area with never a backward glance. We were on high alert. Despite his injuries he had responsibilities. Overnight care of one of his small people.
She in turn is offering him quiet time watching Trolls with her.
It seems to work for both of them.
The sun rises on November. October said farewell with a violent attack on our little family, by an enormous black dog, unleashed and intent on knocking over an adult in order to make a feast of poor Hugo. Over in seconds it left him with a broken jaw, a squeezed and infected eye and multiple piercing injuries. The dog was able to take his whole head into its mouth. The owner knew serious harm had been done and still chose to walk away. The care of the vet, police and our community has lifted us from the despair of this brutal attack to a place where we feel comfortably nurtured. As I write this Hugo rests in a sunbeam, his jaw wired up and his wounds cleaned. Events like this show the dark side of one random human’s nature. But as we woke up in November we realised that for many many reasons we are extraordinarily lucky to live in a community that cares and makes that care obvious by acts of kindness. November has started as a bright and beautiful month. Long may it continue on this setting.
Long ago Hugo, when he was a puppy, was a model for neckerchiefs for a local, coastal clothing brand. After this event he is not quite the attractive chap he once was. He has a good side and a very bad side. For the time being he is only available for bookings in profile.
There is not a tiny part of me that thinks the trashy celebration of Halloween is worthy of my time. But here I am , on a day when I have precious little time sharing two Halloween images that have tickled me.
What’s something you believe everyone should know.
Spending time doing unexpected tasks can be enjoyable.
This morning I did not expect to be making knitted bunting. But an experiment at 8am worked out rather well. I picked out autumnal colours from some donated knitted triangles that had been given to a tennis club I help to run. At 11am myself and a friend were sat overlooking the sea,sewing bunting that could be used in the clubhouse during the late autumn. By midday we had had great quality nattering and had produced 3 strings of colourful bunting. Neither of us had planned to do this but the fruits of our unexpected task looks rather lovely in situ.
What does it mean to be a kid at heart?
I have always struggled with the statement above. How can anyone pass through puberty and genuinely remain a kid at heart. Once we are adults everything is viewed or expressed through the experience of metamorphosing from child to adult in the years of adolescence. Wishing or pretending to be ‘a kid at heart’ is just magical thinking, presumably just cherry picking the wonderful things about being a child. I realise this comes over as a little grumpy so here is a chocolate croissant heart to lighten the mood.
A gorgeous weekend of bright sunlight and long shadows. We are still in the process of domestic refurbishment so we didn’t see as much of the outside as we could have. But natural light streaming through the windows helped a lot with painting walls.
The clocks went back this weekend, a sure sign that the inevitability of winter is near. Samhein is nearly upon us.
Peak Pumpkin
Here is the blog I didn’t feel I could write . It wasn’t quite my story to tell. Early in September two old school friends went to a football match. Nothing unusual about that,except 50 years has passed since we were at school in Essex, and now we live on opposite sides of the world. When I moved to Plymouth 35 years ago, I visited the local museum and noticed a Plymouth Argyle player in a 1928 team line-up with the same name as my school friend. The two men also looked similar Our letters, emails and nattering has taken all that time to come to the point when we were both at the same Plymouth Argyle match. It turned out to be quite the day out. The sun shone, we were treated like V.I.P’s and the team won a spectacular match.
@theoldmortuary guest writer Dai Pullen will take over from here.
My grandfather Jack Pullen played for Argyle a hundred years ago. To some, that might seem like nothing more than ancient history. but for the club, it is a history about which it is both very proud and respectful. I got to experience this first-hand recently when I was invited to visit the Home Park while I was staying in Plymouth on holiday from Melbourne Australia. My visit was hosted by Paul Hart (Forever Green Ambassador), Bob Wright (Greens on Screen official photographer), and Matt Ellacot (curator of the Plymouth Argyle Heritage Archive). It is impossible to imagine any club in the land having a nicer, more enthusiastic and dedicated set of representatives totally committed to collecting, preserving and archiving material which illustrates, the club’s long and distinguished history. They also want to acknowledge and celebrate players who have represented the club throughout its history, by creating a community of former Pilgrims who will continue to be welcomed to and be included as part of the club long after their playing days are over. To quote Paul Hart, “We want to make sure that everyone who has worn the green and white will have access to care, training and support should they need it.”
It is this level of genuine commitment and inclusion which helps set Argyle above and apart from the rest of the pack. My day at the club was absolutely outstanding, I was treated to lunch in Thatcher’s Sports Bar where I was seated with a group of true club legends, Duncan Neale Martin Phillips, Steve Davey and Marc Edworthy. I’m not sure what they put in the water down in Devon, but a nicer, more charming collection of lunch guests would be hard to find. But wait, there was more. Paul escorted me down to the pitch where he presented me with a Forever Green collection of items celebrating my grandfather’s Argyle career and in return I donated a number of precious items of memorabilia to the care of the Plymouth Argyle Heritage Archive. This included the champions medal he won as a member of the team which finally won promotion to the second division in 1930. There was also the shirt he wore when selected to represent Wales in an international against England in 1926, along with the Welsh cap he was awarded for this appearance. These items had been in my possession since I was a boy, and it had been a difficult move to offer to donate them to the club. Having met those charged with managing the Argyle Heritage and its artefacts, however, I was left in no doubt that I’d made the right decision. This is an organisation which honours and respects its past, while simultaneously looking ahead to an even more glorious future.
Even then my day, wasn’t quite over, there was a home game against Sunderland to be played. There were a few things about present day Plymouth which my grandfather would not have recognised. The refurbished stadium, for example., and the bowling green-like pitch. The giant video screen would have blown his mind. The one thing, though, that would have been instantly recognisable was the roar and full-hearted support of the home crowd. What an atmosphere there was in the stadium that afternoon. And when Joe Edwards, scored the winner, in the final minute I swear I felt the spirit of old Jack right there with me in the stand. What an experience, what a club.
Best day at the football, ever!
Giddy with excitement, I then paid a call to the club shop and spent a fortune on merch. But never mind. I was feeling Gert Lush. And impatient to do it all again. A huge thanks to everyone who made my visit to Home Park so memorable. Forever Green? really how could I not be.
Jack and Dai discuss tactics.
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